Darkness Sara
by Chornyi
Summary: Got two of these, one from each POV, Ian and Sara. This is Sara's. Just a short encounter.


DARKNESS (Sara)  
  
By Chornyi  
  
Not mine.. Not even Ian, unfortunately. You know whose they are.  
  
Another short story. Got two versions, one from Sara's POV, one from Ian's POV.. This is Sara's.   
  
....................................................................................  
  
Darkness. It hides a multitude of sins.  
  
For Sara, it hides the shadows under her eyes, the trembling in her hands, the pain in her stomach that a roll of antacids can't soothe.  
  
Sleep. That's what she wants more then anything.  
  
More then the hot, cleansing water of her shower. More then the cold half a pizza in her friedge. More then coffee.  
  
Just sleep.   
  
Oblivion.  
  
Today has been one of those days, and it's lasted a lot longer then any day should. She checked the precinct clock when she left and was suprised to see midnight, the long hour hand pointing directly to the 12.  
  
Midnight. The day is officially over.  
  
Thank God.   
  
Even one more hour might have been too much to bear.  
  
Picking up her helmet from the Buell's seat, she reaches up to her ponytail and pulls the band loose. Her hair, freed from its tight confines, falls lankly over her cheeks.  
  
Need to wash it, but not tonight.   
  
Tonight- Sleep.  
  
As she raises the helmet toward her head, she hears footsteps.   
  
Jesus what now?  
  
She turns sharply and he freezes in place, black-gloved hands raised and held out from his sides.   
  
'Sara.'  
  
'What do YOU want?' she snaps. God, if she'd just made it out a few seconds earlier.. but no. He's probably been waiting for hours, like the good little stalker he is.  
  
He takes a step closer, even though she glares at him to hold his place.  
  
'To talk to you. Nothing more.' That mellow voice, soft and wrapping around her like fur.  
  
Sincerity in his brown eyes, his head lowered after a second as if awaiting her chastisement for his forwardness.  
  
God, she's tired of this dance.  
  
'Well, I don't think the speech fairy is going to grant your wish tonight, Nottingham.'  
  
She turn away and leans over the Buell, hoping he'll get the message.  
  
'Sara-' His touch comes as a complete shock to her- his fingers on her arm, the cold black leather tips of his damned, gloved fingers.  
  
Sara turns on him before she knows what she's doing. The Witchblade starts to wake to her, the gauntlet is there suddenly, warm metal on her fist, the blade starts to extend. Then it registers Ian as the object of her rage. The sword whispers and is gone, the gauntlet melts away, the bracelet betrays her, remaining still, the red stone cold and dark.  
  
She's on her own.  
  
She looks up into Nottingham's eyes, those solemn dark eyes.  
  
'Don't touch me.' she says harshly.  
  
'I'm sorry-' he starts. She cuts him off.  
  
'Yeah, well. Just go, okay, Nottingham? Just go. I'm not doing this tonight.'   
  
He looks at her helplessly  
  
'But I-'  
  
She interrupts him again, silencing him. 'Ian. That's your name, right? Ian?'  
  
He looks confused by her question but he answers her. 'Yes. Ian is my name.'  
  
She gives him her best, most sarcastic look. For some reason, it's harder then usual. But there's the right note of contempt in her voice.  
  
'Okay. Well, Ian, it's been a long night. I want to go home. What I don't want is to have to deal with any of your cryptic shit. Okay? So why don't you just go home to Kenny and tell him so?'  
  
He shakes his head, looking at her pleadingly.  
  
'I have not come from Mr. Irons.'  
  
She shakes hers back. 'C'mon, Ian. We both know that's not true.'   
  
Mounting the bike, she holds her helmet in her left hand, waiting for him to go.  
  
But he doesn't go. He stands there as if he doesn't know what to do, his eyes for once on her face. Those sad eyes.  
  
When he speaks, his voice is so soft she can hardly hear him.  
  
'It is true, Sara. He has nothing to do with why I'm here.'  
  
He looks at her as if begging her to believe him. What's so important?  
  
'Why ARE you here?' she asks finally.  
  
'I told you. I want to talk-' he starts.  
  
She doesn't let him finish. She can't.   
  
Can't take anymore of those dark looks, those sad eyes, the soft, intimate brush of his voice. Not when she's this tired. Not without control.  
  
'Yeah. I know.' She interrupts him. 'To me. If this is going to be similar to any of your other little talks, I don't want to hear it.'  
  
Shaking her head, she puts on the helmet. 'In fact, I don't wanna do this at all. I'll see you... Some other time. I'm sure.'  
  
He lifts his hand as if he's going to try to stop her, but then lets it fall.  
  
He lowers his head, at last taking those eyes off her.  
  
'Some other time.' he echoes softly 'I will be.. around.. if you need me.'  
  
She bets he will. 'Yeah. I'm sure you will be.. around.' she says, hitting the right note of sarcasm again, building distance.  
  
She's glad for the helmet, suddenly, sheltering her, hiding her.  
  
He's looking up at her from under his dark brows, a covert glance from those eyes that are golden-brown in sunlight but so dark here, now.   
  
She catches his gaze and their eyes lock. Then he starts to look away, that submissive thing she can't stand.  
  
Reactions faster then her good sense, she catches his chin in her hand and pulls his eyes back to hers  
  
'Ian?' she says, her tone making the name a question.  
  
He looks uncomfortable to be forced to hold her gaze, but he answers her obediantly.   
  
'Yes, Sara?'   
  
'Don't follow me.'  
  
He shakes his head without speaking, and she lets go of his chin.  
  
'Goodnight, Ian.' she says, almost gently.  
  
'Goodnight, Sara.' he responds, keeping her gaze without the touch.  
  
For an instant, she wants to change things between them.   
  
She feels closer to him then usual in this dark parking lot, with the intimacy of his eyes on hers, uncoerced. He's not all bad, she knows that.  
  
Sometimes he looks so lost. She knows things about him that no one else knows.   
  
Secrets bind.  
  
But the moment ends, and she kicks the bike forward, leaving him behind.  
  
Darkness hides a multitude of sins. It can hide tears, too.  
  
The wind pulls them away before she can feel them.  
  
She can tell herself they weren't even there. 


End file.
